


The Faces I've Known

by GamblingDementor



Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Female Friendship, Female-Centric, Fluff and Angst, Gen, POV Female Character, Trans Sonny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-10-13 18:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10519662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamblingDementor/pseuds/GamblingDementor
Summary: All three days of the musical from Nina's perspective, including in-between scenes.Rating will change as the story progresses (*wink* blackout *wink*) and any change will be mentioned at the beginning of the chapter in question.





	1. 3 am

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Camp NaNoWriMo project so I will be writing and posting this throughout April! Hopefully you like it.

_Just breathe._

 

The stars are starting to fade in the pitch black night sky as the plane approaches New York City. It will be landing soon and Nina still hasn't found the words she'll use to tell her parents she dropped out. She'll need to find the right ones − she can see right from here her parents' faces dropping in shame and disappointment, and maybe even anger, rage. _It's hopeless_ , she tells herself for the hundredth time since she boarded. Four months may as well be an eternity in lying to your parents time. They'll never forgive her.

 

"I lost my scholarship," she repeats the first words she's chosen to start with, a whisper that still burns her throat on its way out. She's lucky the family crammed next to her in the economy class seats are all asleep. Best not expose her shame to any more people than needed. It'll already be painful with just her block knowing she failed them.

 

Best start by that simple fact when she talks to her parents. It's not the beginning of it all (When did it all begin? The first day she stepped into the plane to California knowing her dad had a struggling business, when she chose to put her ambition first?), but the lost scholarship is what marked the beginning of the end. She brought herself there, of course. Her pride, or her stubbornness, likely more than a little bit of both. How to announce them that she's barely told them a true word in a year, lied to them whenever they called? How to admit that she isn't as smart as she thought, that her plans weren't all that foolproof, that she's coming back home with the weight of failure on her shoulders?

 

The growling of the engine startles her out of her self-pity as the plane slowly starts its descent on New York. She dares a peek out the window but to no avail. Nothing to see here. She bites the inside of her cheeks as they land (for half a second she wonders if a plane crash wouldn't be a cleaner death than facing her parents) and lets all the other passengers go first. She isn't in any hurry. The night is dark outside, dawn not coming for a few hours, but she feels more awake than ever. Her heart is racing, her stomach heavy and curdled. _Just breathe._ She presses her face against the window again as the crowd hustles along out the plane.

 

"Miss," a voice calls out to her, a hand gently pressing her shoulder.

 

"Huh?"

 

"Miss, we've arrived."

 

She turns to the steward, numb and completely unready to get off. The lady stares at her for a thick few seconds before sighing.

 

"Do you speak English?" She articulates loudly.

 

Nina jerks up, feeling herself get angry. Flashes of customers talking to her as slowly as they would to a toddler whenever she would take more than two seconds to answer come rushing back to her memory. She grabs her bag moodily and stands up, almost knocking her head into the ceiling − boy is this cabin small, even for the price you pay −, and walks briskly to the exit.

 

"Yes I do," she retorts on her way out, "I'm majoring in English."

 

It's a lie, or at least it is now that she's lost her scholarship, but she's too tired, too upset to come up with a witty remark. It wouldn't have much effect anyway.

 

Most of the crowd from her flight has cleared out by the time she gets to the baggage collector and she's just about to pick her suitcase (the whole of her possessions tucked into a big case and her backpack, her entire life packed in here as she flies home with her tail between her legs…) when arms wrap around her from behind and she's picked up and swirled around gleefully.

 

"Nina Rosario! Qué preciosa! Qué linda!"

 

She recognizes the voice as one of her dad's drivers. One of the recent ones, if she's not mistaken, Junior, barely hired a couple years ago, but she's known him all her life as she has all the others. All the company dinners that were nothing more than her mom cooking for every single driver they employed, fitting many more people into their small apartment than fit it, she knows all these faces and they know her. She's disappointing him too, she's sure, or she will when he learns. Best delay that till the last possible second. She puts on a happy face and turns around to hug him. She feels there will be many fake smiles to come.

 

Junior picks up her things at his own insistence, and off they are into his cab, the short ride to Washington Heights at three in the morning. He chatters with her in Spanish, all chipper at such an early time. She responds politely, maybe sparsely, but she can blame it on the jetlag. She apologizes and promptly gets her phone out to shoot Vanessa a couple texts to say she's back − no risk of waking her this early in the morning, as Vanessa keeps her phone on silent at all times, something about wanting to be in control of who talks to her and who doesn't. Back to the chatter, to pretending she still is that girl who made everyone proud and the few minutes feel like a whole year until Junior finally drops her off at the front steps of her childhood home.

 

She made her parents promise that they wouldn't wait for her, not so late at night when they both need their rest with her mom's sleeping pills and her dad's back pains, so she makes herself as quiet as she can when she opens the door with her spare key she hasn't used in a year. Emotion punches her in the stomach as soon as she enters, the home everything it used to be. There's the smooth rumble of the kitchen appliances, the grandpa clock they still haven't tuned to give the accurate time of day, and the air is dull and heavy in the summer heat (they haven't turned on the AC, of course). One of her dad's shirts is crumpled on the sofa, surely dropped there after her mom went to bed because Camila Rosario never allows any dirty laundry around the home. They replaced the micro-wave and there's a few new books on the shelves but everything is as it was. Nina breathes.

 

She brings her suitcase back with her in her room − she made sure to have all of her clothes laundered and ready to not burden her mom any more than she already will. Her room has been freshly cleaned and smells of flowers and detergent. There's a small bunch of daisies on her desk and her papers and books are as organized as she left them. Pictures of Stanford on the walls that make her inhale sharply, biting back the tears. Another time, another girl put these up all the walls of the small room. Nina sighs and, too tired to unpack, opens her wardrobe to find some old pajamas she left there, along with the uncool clothes that didn't make the cut to the proper college girl's attire. Hot pink and covered in ducks somehow, some silly present from distant family members a long time ago, but they still fit her. She switches off the light and slides under the thin cover of her bed.

 

The floor in the corridor creaks and the door opens, letting in a thin ray of light on her face but she keeps her eyes shut. Shame is coiling in her stomach but she can't fathom facing whichever of her parents opened the door, not right now, not before she has at least attempted to sleep things out. She's not ready. She wonders if she ever will be, if she could postpone this any longer than she already has.

 

"Mija preciosa…" She hears her mom whisper to the night.

 

The bed creases next to her as her mom sits down. There are a few seconds way too heavy with the silence of her lies but she keeps her eyes closed at all cost and Camila seems fooled. She pats her head, strokes the hair like she has always loved to, brushes a hand against Nina's cheek and up she goes again. The light lingers a few moments longer, her mother at the door watching her, and then nothing but the dark room.

 

She has failed. The prodigal daughter returns, and she has let down the entire village. She wants to cry, but she's cried out her situation many times already back in California. Her eyes are still closed yet sleep won't find her. She can't help picturing what her parents will say tomorrow morning, what everyone will say. What if her parents aren't even the worse of it? She isn't too eager to see the look on Vanessa's face when she announces that she couldn't even do what she always did, being the smart one, and how worthless is she if she's lost the one thing she was good at? What will Usnavi say? Will Sonny think less of her, the girl of his dreams, or so he said, now that she's back and she's let everyone down? He's always said he wanted to go to college if he found the money… What if Abuela Claudia herself is disappointed? A year of postcards carefully written down by Usnavi, recipes she passed down from her own mother, and for what?

 

The thoughts don't leave her alone. They never have. She isn't quite at a panic attack yet, thank God, but fear is filling her and she can't breathe quite as smoothly as she should. Sleep doesn't come for her all night, but nothing is new there either. Since she was a child, she's known anxiety and insomnia, though she had hoped that they would go away with age. _Just breathe._ The opposite has proved true. The morning finds her as frightened and tense as she has been for the past months.


	2. Breathe

Sleepless hours pass and she sees every one of them on her bedside clock, its bright purple needles. The same old clock she received as a birthday present for her fourth birthday when she insisted on learning to read time like a big girl. She doesn't want to get out of bed − she feels like it would be so much better to stay in here, suffocating under the covers, for the rest of the day or the summer. Getting up would mean having breakfast, facing her parents, their questions, their inquisitive eyes, and Nina is not ready for it. The weight at the pit of her stomach hasn't lifted up, but she feels it won't until she's confessed her many mistakes. She pulls herself out of bed.

 

She showers just a tad too cold for comfort even in this heat building in Washington Heights and finds herself thinking that this is the first time in months she's not sharing someone else's bathroom, not intruding. _Feels good to be home…_ Her face is betraying her in the mirror, her eyes guilty, her lips quivering. She wouldn't trust the girl she's seeing. She checks her phone: still no answer from Vanessa. She isn't generally one to double text but emergencies call for extreme measures.

 

_Can you take a break this morning? I really need to talk to you_

 

She waits for a delivery receipt, which comes right away, and for an answer, which doesn't. Not too good a start for her day, but the worst is to come. The house is still empty when she walks out of the bathroom. For a second, she sits down at the kitchen table and reaches for the leftovers of her parents' breakfast, but her stomach gurgles in a way that is not too inviting. She checks her phone again − still nothing from Vanessa − and goes out.

 

The street hasn't changed much since the last time she was here. There's one less bodega on the other corner, she notices, newspapers plastered on the windows, being renovated into most likely a Starbucks, but the De la Vega Bodega still stands proud. The salon is open at this time and she briefly considers stopping by and snatching Vanessa away for just a minute − out of all people she feels guilty having been lying to, Vanessa is most likely right up there with her parents − but then she notices Abuela Claudia sitting on her stoop, Usnavi chatting with her. Her heart doubles up and she feels a rush of warmth that has nothing to do with summer. Without thinking twice, she runs towards them.

 

"Hey!"

 

The grin on Usnavi's face when he sees her might be the best cure to her anxiety, as temporary as it is. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him. She pounces on him, probably tighter than she should, but she's been in need of a hug for a year now and Usnavi has always given the best ones.

 

"Nina Rosario! What is up?" He says in his slightly nasal voice that she hasn't heard nearly as often as she wanted.

 

Her heart breaks. _What is up?_ Where to start? She breathes in sharply and decides to allow herself a few more moments − grant her this, just a short while to let herself be the barrio's _estrella_ again. They'll learn soon enough.

 

"Jetlag," she says, the truth, if only half of it. "I haven't slept all night."

 

"It's the watermelon of my heart!" Abuela Claudia calls out behind her.

 

"Bendición, Abuela," Nina smiles and finds that it comes rather easily.

 

"Congratulations! Your first year at Stanford University!"

 

 _My first six months at Stanford University, followed by my first months as a barista and a fast-food worker with no home, begging for scraps from a friend I barely knew._ Abuela Claudia takes Nina's hands, strokes her cheek, and Nina's shame is almost suffocating.

 

"It felt like ten," she lets out.

 

"You just missed your parents."

 

_Thank God._

 

"No, I'm here to see you guys!"

 

Here, with Abuela's palm cupping her face, the way her eyes glint with warmth, with Usnavi's proud gaze on her, she can pretend she's still that girl she used to be, a year or an eternity ago.

 

"So, did you kick some college ass?" Usnavi jokes.

 

"I got mine handed to me on a silver platter," she slips out and wants to correct herself but Abuela Claudia is already doing so herself.

 

"Please! You knew your ABC when you were six months old."

 

"You registered half this block to vote!" Usnavi adds, a grin on his face.

 

"The future mayor of Nueva York!"

 

A girl's dreams, a girl's projects. Whatever she did back as a young child, back as a young woman, it seems so foreign and distant, like the past belongs to another person, isn't really hers. There is only this street and its people and the girl they're admiring isn't her.

 

"And _I_ wanna be your campaign manager…"

 

Out of the bodega comes Sonny and his little face, another one she hasn't seen in far too long. Oh sure, there were phone calls, many ones when he grabbed the phone from Usnavi or Abuela Claudia's hands to brag about his latest random achievements, but there is a world between that and his insufferable beam when he pushes Usnavi out of the way to come lean against Abuela's door, looking at her like she's the sun and he hasn't been out to see the day in years.

 

"Yo, miss, recognize this face?"

 

In truth, she almost doesn't. He's been put on testosterone just a month before she left and his chubby round face from before is becoming manly, a bit more sharp. Oh, he's tracked his progress on YouTube and she followed every video, almost the only news from back home except the occasional phone calls and postcards. She loved watching Sonny's silly face growing into manhood when she felt bad, but it's nothing like seeing him, hearing him. His voice must have dropped a full octave since last summer.

 

"Look who's a grown man!"

 

"Check outs the goatee," he says, looking up, pointing to his chin.

 

She doesn't see anything, but nods nonetheless. She has better things to do than hurting a little boy's feelings. Usnavi has no such qualms when it comes to his cousin.

 

"That's fridge grease."

 

Sonny frowns, Nina forgotten for a second.

 

"Why you so jealous of my skills?"

 

"Back to work," Usnavi groans, but he is smiling again when he turns to Nina. "Stop by later!"

 

She watches him walk back into his little shop. The window hasn't changed in a year, the same posters, and through it, she sees that the aisles are still as they were too. Usnavi starts serving a few customers with his natural good cheer, Sonny dropping on a chair in the corner and pulling out his phone to text. She turns back to Abuela Claudia and finds her kind gentle eyes on her already. She smiles.

 

"Those recipes you sent were my survival kit," she finds herself saying.

 

"I had to make sure you remembered the flavor of home," Abuela answers.

 

In Meg's small studio, Nina wanted to make herself useful and she cooked most nights in between her work shifts. Raised by Camila Rosario, she knew how to cook from the time she could hold a spoon in her hand but she still followed the recipes religiously. Some of them written by Usnavi, his neat letters, some by Sonny, messy cursive, although they might just have been written by his mother with the exact same handwriting, all of them precious to her heart.

 

Abuela puts her hands on her knees, gets ready to stand up.

 

"Bueno, come inside, I have your sandwichito ready!"

 

"I'll be there in a second."

 

"I'll go put the fan on."

 

A day of feast, Nina ponders, where they deserve fresh air in the home. Does she even deserve it? It's all under false pretense that they're happy she's back.

 

Abuela Claudia walks the few steps of her stoop, leaning on Nina's hand. She notices with a touch of worry how slow and painful those steps seem to her, her walk stilted − she'll have to ask Usnavi about Abuela's health later. One last pat on her hair, a stroke of Abuela's fingers on her cheeks and she's on her own to face the street.

 

" _Sigue andando el camino por toda su vida, respira…_ "

 

The piragua vendor is singing a little bit further down the street, a song she knows as well as her own name for all the times she's heard his voice. She remembers the day before she left, when he gave her a free piragua and told her it was the last bit of Puerto Rico he gave her to keep in her heart before she flew away. He's only one of the many people who paid their farewells to her. She knows everyone here. All the people on the block heard of the Rosarios and their smart little girl, the one who never spent a penny when she could spare it because college was coming and she was ready for it before her time. Back then, she thought she would make everyone proud. She had to. She isn't just the first Rosario to go to college, she's the first Puerto Rican from the 183rd and many streets beyond and it's not just her parents hoping the best for her, it's everyone in Washington Heights.

 

She takes a few stumbling steps in the street, her breath short and clumsy. _Just breathe_. She smiles, breathes, waves at everyone who passes her, breathes, says hello, breathes. She must greet a hundred people in the time she takes a short walk around the block and she feels like she is personally disappointing every single one of them. She sees in their eyes how much they rely on her, how hopeful they all are and the guilt is eating her from the inside. They _trusted_ her. Anxiety is tugging at her heart, playing with it, tightening around her lungs. This was never meant to go that way, she was never meant to fail. The plan was to go to college, to work harder and be smarter than everyone else like she'd been all her life, and come home acclaimed and successful. _Some master planner you are_.

 

" _Y si pierdes mis huellas que Dios te bendiga, respira._ "

 

She doesn't let them see her anguish, of course. They'll learn soon enough, she tells herself for the thousandth time − every time less eager to tell them. Selfishly, she wants to keep the burden of her shame on her shoulders only. Selflessly, she wants to spare them the disappointment. A minute, five minutes pass when Nina gives herself to her emotions at the deepest of her heart. She's no stranger to panic attacks and she's learned to control herself out of them. She's had to. The day the dean told her they were pulling her scholarship, she had a panic attack worse than any she'd had in years, the last day in her dorm room before she had to leave. It's been the only one she's allowed herself over this and she won't break again, not today, not now. She keeps a smile on her face, her back straight, she nods politely at everyone and _breathes_.

 

"Nina?" Abuela Claudia calls her from her stoop − Nina hadn't realize she was taking long.

 

She sees the warmth of Abuela Claudia's smile, the way she holds up her hands to invite her in, the only grandmother she's ever had. _I have to tell her,_ she thinks, and walks inside with Abuela.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this isn't nearly as good as the musical version.


	3. Café Cubano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nina has breakfast at Abuela Claudia's.

 

Abuela Claudia's home smells of coffee and detergent. Nina loves that she can't tell if either of those come from Usnavi or Abuela Claudia. It's a comfortable and welcoming place, like the home of your favorite grandparents, except one of them is a scrawny bodega owner in his twenties who is much more like a brother than anything else. So be it, Usnavi has the soul of an abuelo, even now. It's fresh in here, for once, and there are birds on the window sill where she left the bread crust − she still removes them for Nina like she did when she was a little child coming home from kindergarten and begging for a snack.

 

"Come, sit down," Abuela Claudia says, her back turned as she fusses over something at the counter. Nina sees how much her hands shake. "I'll make you some café. Do they know how to make café cubano on the other side of America?"

 

"They don't," Nina snorts. "I missed it. I could have made it myself, but I didn't… Yours was always the best."

 

It's always been an adorable competition against Usnavi's café con leche, a competition Nina was only witness to. Abuela waves the compliment away and puts the pot on the stove. She is facing the window, pausing for a moment then grabbing her sugar, busy as a bee again. Nina prefers not to look up and take the risk to meet her eyes. She grabs her sandwich from the table, on a beautiful little China plate that Abuela Claudia only ever takes out for the most special guests, but soon finds that she can barely take a bite.

 

"Come algo," Abuela says, as if she could see Nina's lack of appetite all the way from her kitchen counter where she's pouring sugar into her measuring cup. "And tell me about Stanford."

 

_Where should I even start?_

 

"I… It's big. A lot of sun."

 

"So, like New York?"

 

Nina laughs bitterly.

 

"I've never been anywhere so _unlike_ New York," she says.

 

Abuela hums. She's acting almost as if she _knew_ but she can't, no one knows yet. _Not for lack of trying to tell Vanessa_.

 

"I had so many classes and they were all _so_ interesting, but it was a lot of work and… I was…" She scrapes the inners of her mind for the right word but none of them can describe the helplessness of bills stacking up and textbooks taking up the dust while she was earning her wages at the sweat of her brow in a coffee shop she would never even set a foot in if it was in New York. "Overwhelmed," she admits pitifully.

 

"Oh, but you showed them, didn't you?"

 

The coffee starts pouring and Abuela puts the first spoonful of it in the sugar, starts stirring it, making it light and foamy. Nina loves coffee, by choice as much as by necessity. She couldn't afford not to, not when there was barely any time to fit classes and schoolwork into her schedule, much less sleep when she needed it. A coffee machine was as necessary as running water or electricity. But she had to make do with cheap coffee made in a hurry for quick effects and nothing ever compared even to Usnavi's coffee, and much less to Abuela Claudia's café cubano. Her mocha pot is starting to fill the air with its sweet scent and Nina wants to bathe in the smell forever and take it back with her wherever she goes.

 

"I… I didn't," she says.

 

 _Just breathe_. Abuela isn't her parents. She didn't spend her whole life sparing every cent for Nina to spit in her face and mess everything up anyways. Nina is disappointing her too, of course, all of them, but to a lesser extent. The way Claudia is still stirring the sugar and looking out the window, Nina almost feels like she's giving her space on purpose. It's silly, of course. She has no way to know. But Nina has always often felt like Abuela Claudia understands her without words.

 

"I dropped out," she confesses like a little girl on her knees praying for forgiveness.

 

Abuela Claudia stops stirring the sugar for just a split second, then the coffee pot starts gurgling and she pours it carefully, and only when she's sat in front of Nina and served each of them a cup of coffee does she look straight into Nina's eyes.

 

"It's okay," she says simply and grabs Nina's hand to stroke her thumb across her palm.

 

Relief floods through Nina, although not nearly as much as she would have thought. _My parents_ , she thinks. _They'll be the hard part, not Abuela Claudia._ But if she's blessed with having encountered Abuela first, she'll grab onto that opportunity and take the reassurance she will need to tell everyone else.

 

"I… I'm sorry," she admits, not even finding the right words. "I know you were expecting me to…"

 

"Shh," Claudia says, squeezing Nina's hand. "Tell me how it happened."

 

She points Nina to the cup of coffee. Nina doesn't remember if Abuela Claudia or Usnavi was the one who came up with their saying that a cup of café cures all sadness away. She brings herself to take a sip and the hot coffee spreads warmth around her − nothing to do with the beverage, everything to do with Claudia's doting eyes on her.

 

"I should have worked harder." It was a mistake in a line of many, of courses. "There wasn't enough money," she explains. "I had to work two jobs to pay for college, but maybe if I'd worked harder in high school instead of…"

 

"You were studying," Abuela Claudia notes cautiously.

 

"Yeah," Nina breathes out pitifully. "If I'd worked more, I wouldn't have studied as much and who knows if I'd even have gotten into college… But I'd have had more money."

 

Abuela Claudia is still smiling kindly. It's a comforting smile, less filled with the happiness of seeing Nina for the first time in months and more about reassurance, about the safety that she'll always be there for her. Nina feels like she needs a bit of that too. She drinks her coffee and feels energy flowing through her limbs, an energy she needs.

 

"I was in over my head," she adds and feels so much younger than she is, like a little child who picked up a book with too many big words.

 

"Mija, you can always go back."

 

"I… can't."

 

Abuela Claudia looks at her quizzically and Nina feels the weight of her shame more than ever.

 

"I lost my scholarship."

 

Claudia pushes the plate with the sandwich closer to her, urging her to eat and Nina takes a half-hearted bite.

 

"You can always find another one. Patience and faith."

 

"It doesn't work that way!" Nina cries out exasperatedly but catches herself. "I'm sorry, Abuela, I… No, I can't just find another one. It's gone. The money's gone."

 

"Then you'll find money elsewhere. I'm sure I have some savings in my drawers, and Usnavi has been…"

 

"I can't take your money," Nina says, offended at the very idea.

 

 _Her_ mistake, _her_ responsibility. She'll fix it herself, if it's possible. And if it isn't… She shudders at the prospect.

 

"Even if I do find money, am I even… am I even good enough? What if I fail anyway?"

 

She feels tears coming up at her eyes and rubs her eyes dry before they can fall. She's cried enough about this already.

 

"Nina," Abuela says in her gentle voice that has the wisdom of her sixty-nine years. "You will always be good enough."

 

So much for holding her tears back. She feels a trail rolling down her cheeks at the words she's needed to hear for months.

 

"What should I do?"

 

"Talk to your parents," Abuela Claudia replies at once. "And even more, listen to your parents. You'll figure it out."

 

Nina dares to smile.

 

"Now, finish your sandwich and tell me everything you learned in school."


	4. Benny's Dispatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nina goes to the dispatch booth to find her parents but finds someone else.

After breakfast, Nina is starting to fidget and Abuela Claudia soon soothes her nervousness, covering her hand with hers.

 

"You know you will always be welcome here," she says kindly.

 

Nina smiles, nods. She doesn't have much certitude in her life, but at least she has that.

 

"But you have to go now."

 

She frowns.

 

"You have to find your parents. Grab coffee from the bodega, go home, and talk."

 

Nina would that she could stay in this kitchen forever, until sundown, spend dinner with Usnavi and Abuela Claudia, helping them cook and basking in their love, but Abuela is right, of course she is. It'll be hard to tell her parents, but it's a necessary evil. Nina feels better already lifting this weight off her shoulders. Sharing it with one person makes it feel half as heavy; best add her parents' support. She kisses Abuela's cheek and leaves for the dispatch to find her parents. Or rather, she thought they would be there because she finds very much the opposite person to her parents rapping his heart away at the dispatch mic.

 

"Benny… Hey…"

 

He drops the mic in surprise and smiles at her and Nina feels smacked in the face with the force of how cute she still finds him. _Shut up_ , she tells herself. _You don't have time for this_. The truth is she hasn't spared much of a thought to Benny this year. And it's not like she was full blown _in love_ with him before Stanford either. A crush, that's what it's always been. A terribly obvious one if Vanessa is to be believed, but she _isn't,_ she's exaggerating everything because Nina has this perfectly under control. Of course, Benny has the nicest smile and his hair looks like it's great to comb your fingers through and there are those arms that she doesn't even want to go in about. Those are good things. But they don't make one rush to the altar and Nina has a firm hold on her feelings.

 

"Nina, you're home today!" He beams and she feels hot all over.

 

She asks about her parents but they seem to have escaped her once again − she's not sure if she feels relieved or anxious that they're still on whatever errand they're running. Relieved or anxious to be alone with Benny. He looks at her like he expects her to come up with the most mind blowing new life paradigm, the solution to world hunger, the first time travel machine. Like he trusts her to be the best humanity has to offer. She's not sure she could handle those eyes on her for all that long, not when she knows it's all a lie. Maybe there is a girl out there who will perform all these wonderful feats and who will graduate and come home acclaimed by all her loved ones. Nina is not that girl.

 

"Anyway…" She trails off.

 

Maybe it'd be best to wait out with Abuela Claudia and go straight to her parents as soon as they're back, no middle man, no distraction, and Benny sounds like he would be the biggest distraction of all. She remembers when he gave her driving lessons and they had to go over each point several times because he kept brushing her hands showing her how to shift speeds and she couldn't focus. She doesn't need this now. Or does she?

 

"It's good to see your face," he says hopefully.

 

"Any time…"

 

What is he _doing_? Talking to her like this, like he's… interested? Oh, he's always been polite, in all the years she's known him. He's been Usnavi's best friend in the world since middle school and she saw quite a bit of him through their shared friend, with all the time Nina spent at Abuela Claudia's, not to mention all his dramatic entrances at the dispatch when he'd gotten into trouble again. Then he got that job at Rosario's and Nina realized he was the man of her life, or something equally ridiculous that girls think in middle school. She left for college thinking she'd leave that crush behind and yet she's back at that stage where she believes she has some sort of a chance with him? Just because he smiles at her in a way that maybe, possibly, could be interpreted as flirting? Nina is smarter than this… isn't she?

 

"You use to run this dispatch, right?" He grins.

 

She shrugs.

 

"Once or twice…"

 

"Well check the technique, yo!"

 

He begins to rap into the microphone, his whole body accompanying his words and if it weren't so completely endearing and dare she say attractive, it would be so goofy. She wonders how much of it the drivers understood. It's all in good fun until suddenly he turns to her and with a teasing grin he announces to all the drivers of Rosarios working this morning that she is back. She tries to stop him but his mind seems set to introduce her back home as the prodigal daughter she is not.

 

"Nina Rosario, the barrio's best!"

 

But Benny's smile…

 

"Honk your horns, she's smiling!"

 

Of course, he cannot know that the smile is nothing to do with being back, certainly not with any success out west, everything to do with the way he looks at her.

 

"Say hello!" He hands her the mic, the grin not leaving his face. Is he ever not happy?

 

A desire to genuinely pretend everything's fine, to honestly enjoy herself, courses through her but she's barely greeted everyone in the mic that she comes back down to earth and all fun leaves her.

 

"I better find my folks," she says sternly. "Thanks for the welcome wagon."

 

Thanks for reminding me how many people I'm lying to. But she could never say that to Benny, not when the sight of him is enough to tug at her heart even now.

 

"Anytime. Any time, Nina."

 

Her name has always sounded so different from his lips. Maybe because they're his. _Focus, Rosario._ She makes to leave the dispatch booth but he calls her back and when she turns around, she sees his arm held up as if he'd been wanting to grab hers but stopped himself.

 

"Stay here with me?" He offers with a sincere smile, maybe more genuine than anything she's seen from him today.

 

She cocks an eyebrow and he gestures vaguely, justifying himself for nothing.

 

"It's getting hot outside, turn up the AC?"

 

The second offer makes her give in. It's not like her parents will go home without checking on the dispatch anyway… If Nina knows anything about her dad, leaving Benny in charge of the mic has not been his ideal first choice of action. He is bound to come back and assign some 'proper Latino boy' to the task. Nina has tried to explain to him how backwards and wrong his line of thinking is since Mathusalem.

 

A little bit of indulging, another moment, can do no wrong. Her stomach churning − from the fear of telling her parents or Benny's proximity, she cannot say −, she walks up to the dispatch desk to wait with Benny. Her torment is going to end soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nina faces her parents to announce the bad news.

It's been forever since Nina last spent time alone with a boy, maybe even never if you don't count Usnavi or Sonny. And hanging out with them is _nothing_ like being here with Benny, chatting and teasing and, she dares to hope she's not mistaking the vibe, _flirting_. Benny is answering the guys at the dispatch mic and for once in her life, Nina watches someone else work and relaxes.

  


"Cómo?" Benny asks in a much worse Spanish than hers. "Dónde estás, man?"

  


She tries to bite back a smile and not intervene, even though Benny looks completely in over his head. She should have asked for dispatch duty more often last year, she thinks. Maybe she'd have had to help him from time to time. That'd have been nice.

  


"Yo, slow down… Uno momento!" Benny fusses with some papers, the smiles always at his lips a little bit tense now, until he snaps and cries out, "Yo, cabrón, I'm tryina help you, dog!"

  


She grabs the mic away from him, jokingly slapping his arm to chide him.

  


"Who taught you Spanish?!"

  


Benny smirks, chewing gum, unapologetic.

  


"Drivers," he says, then much lower, "Dirty bastards."

  


She smiles despite herself, shakes her head before answering at the dispatch for him.

  


"Uh huh, ¿díme?"

  


She recognizes the voice as Juan Esteban, who has been in her father's company for longer than she's been alive. He slips a few compliments between his explanations. She remembers when she was little and her dad would sometimes send one of the drivers to pick her up from school when her parents were too busy. Juan Esteban always said she'd go far in life, become president maybe. She's relieved there is no such thing today, his frustration seeping through his words despite himself.

  


"He's going to the Cloisters, he's stuck on the Hudson," she tells Benny.

  


"Exit 14," he says, fast as a whip, as natural as breathing. "Follow the sign to Fort Tryont."

  


She smiles at his enthusiasm to do his job properly. She was often more concerned with efficiency when her dad put her on the dispatch from time to time. He's always been smart, smarter than people think.

  


"The U-turn off exit 15 is quicker…"

  


He cocks his brow.

  


"It's also _illegal_."

  


She nods, but bites her lip to hide a smile. Fast, faster than she thinks he can understand, she gives Juan Esteban the instructions. The better ones.

  


"You gave him _your_ directions, didn't you?" Benny asks, not even mad, his smile warming her up more than the summer heat.

  


"You weren't so scared of me last year," she teases.

  


Not that they used to hang out much, not nearly enough to truly develop a friendship, nothing that deep. Enough for her to want so much more, not enough that she knows so much as his middle name.

  


"Maybe 'cause last year you weren't so grown…"

  


They stare at each other in utter silence, fully disbelieving what his words suggest.

  


"Eyes on the dispatch, por favor!"

  


Nina's stomach turns and churns as she turns around to the beaming faces of her parents. Her father looks tired, maybe older than he was a year ago, but also brighter and happier than she's known him to be in a long time.

  


"You," he says, pulling her into a crushing hug, "look more beautiful. And even smarter!"

  


"Must be the bags under my eyes…"

  


Pulling on her arm from the other side, her mom wants her turn.

  


"Nena de mama," she says and how much Nina missed that voice and all the warmth in the world in it. "Mija tan preciosa, turn around! Let me see my flaquita."

  


"Mom…" Nina groans.

  


Of course, her parents would be this way, their very endearing, though overbearing parents selves. Of course they would rejoice over their little girl coming home in front of Benny. Just when he was commenting on how grown she was…

  


"Oh, excuse me," her mom smirks. "You think you're all grown up…"

  


_Don't get distracted. You know what you have to tell them and the sooner, the better._

  


"I was hoping we could grab a few coffees and go home for a minute…"

  


"No, no," her dad shakes his head. "We're celebrating! Caridad's still serving breakfast."

  


This isn't how it was supposed to go, she thinks. She was supposed to tell them in the privacy of their own home. But then, she can't really go down the road of what was or wasn't part of her plan.

  


"I ate at Abuela Claudia's."

  


"So?" Her mom chimes in, pinching her hip. "I get to fatten you up too!"

  


She rolls her eyes and if this wasn't such a stressful time, a good home-cooked breakfast by her mom sounds heavenly… Her dad is grinning and she wishes she could just melt into one of his bear hugs.

  


"We have to go by Daniela's!" He adds. "Everyone wants to see you…"

  


"You guys!" She cuts him, crying out. She remembers Benny and starts again, much lower, tries to keep face. "Okay, I planned this whole speech on the plane…"

  


_For all the good it did you._

  


"Benny, give us a minute," her dad orders.

  


Benny glances at him, then at Nina, briefly at her mom who keeps her gaze firmly on Nina.

  


"If there's anything I can do, just…"

  


"Go." Her dad says firmly and a crestfallen Benny leaves the room.

  


The frozen quiet between the Rosarios is unbearable, made worse by Nina's pulse thumping at her temples, deafening.

  


"Mija…" Her mom starts cautiously but falls back into silence. It's Nina's burden to break it.

  


"I… lost my scholarship."

  


And there it is at last. The curtain fell completely. She watches her parents' faces fall to pieces, shock and sadness taking over pride.

  


"Did you get into some kind of trouble?" Her mom asks tentatively.

  


Nina wants to snort. What kind of trouble could explain this? Would they prefer if Nina got into drugs? She's never tried those in her life and never will. If she got pregnant, maybe? She's never done anything like that either, though maybe… She shakes her head.

  


"No."

  


Her mom sighs, pinching the brink of her nose, while her dad walks behind the dispatch counter, head down. Maybe it's better she can't see his face and how heartbroken he must be. She wants to go back in time and be better this time, a better student, a better daughter.

  


"It's okay," her mom lies. "Just tell us what happened."

  


She breathes and tells it all, how her grades dropped, and the dean convoking her… She keeps to herself how humiliated she felt, though she's sure they must know. How much of a failure she is, not just to her parents and friends but to the whole block.

  


"But you were studying non stop!"

  


"No, I was _working_ ," she sighs. "To pay for books I didn't have time to read."

  


Her dad looks up, inquisitive, and she wishes she had a decent answer to give him. To be the child he thought he had.

  


"Look, I ended up taking a leave of absence."

  


"Does 'leave of absence' mean 'drop out'?" Her mom asks pointedly and Nina's head drops in shame. "Nina, look at me."

  


Nina's chest is heaving but she supports her mom's gaze − for a while.

  


"I guess you could say I left school."

  


Their reactions are explosive.

  


"Oh my god…"

  


"What?!"

  


"When?"

  


Her parents are a chorus of disappointment but nothing she hasn't told herself before.

  


"I didn't know what to do…"

  


" _When?_ " Her mom insists.

  


Nina hesitates.

  


"March."

  


If it were possible, she thinks she might have just slapped them shocked again.

  


"Four months ago?!" Her mom screeches. "What were you doing since then?"

  


"Figuring out how to tell you!" _And you see how that paid off, don't you?_ "Staying on my friend's couch."

  


"Like a beggar," her mom points out and Nina can't say she hasn't thought the same. Oh, she paid her share of rent from the small jobs she managed to scrape by, but she couldn't help wondering what her friend Meg was secretly telling others when they noticed the suitcase in a corner and the comforter neatly folded on the sofa. "You _lied_ to me every time I called you."

  


_I know_ , Nina thinks, ashamed, _I know. And to Van, and to Usnavi and Abuela Claudia…_

  


"I couldn't work two jobs _and_ study for finals _and_ finish my term paper.…"

  


Her dad, who had been staring silently, perks up.

  


" _Two_ jobs? You said it was gonna be one."

  


I said so many things. She sees it now, how every lie was born out of care for her struggling parent, but it all crashed back onto them, a mess that is all hers.

  


"It's expensive," she insists and knows how helpless this attempt is. "And the scholarship only covered part of it."

  


"Then you pick up the phone and say 'Papi, I need some money'!" Her dad retorts and he is almost shouting now.

  


This wasn't how it was supposed to be. None of this was.

  


"You laid off half your drivers this year…"

  


"I would have found a way!"

  


He's stubborn, and he's mad, and he makes her want to be just as stubborn and mad.

  


"You don't know what college is like!"

  


It's a terrible stab, of course, bringing up how little opportunities her father had when he was her age, and she sees on her face how hurt he is, but before she can take back what he says, he replies with even more bite.

  


"Well then _educate me_ , por favor."

  


Utter silence fills the booth. What Nina wouldn't give to still be flirting with enny, still hold to herself the cards to her own demise from her parents' good graces, be in control of that much, but then she did what she had to do.

  


"I'm going to get started on dinner," her mom says eventually.

  


Oh. Nina had almost forgotten this cursed dinner her mom had mentioned she would host for friends and family. She'd thought she would get away with it once they knew…

  


"Cancel tonight," she begs.

  


Her mom only has to throw her one authoritative glance for Nina to know she won't escape this.

  


"You," she points at Nina threateningly. "Be home in an hour."

  


She leaves and after a glance back at Nina that she can't fully parse, so does her dad. With Benny nowhere to be seen, there is nothing for Nina left here and God knows she's not ready to go home just yet. She runs out onto the block that used to be hers.

 


End file.
